


Be Mine?

by strange_h3arts



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: 00Silva, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Roses, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:38:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strange_h3arts/pseuds/strange_h3arts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shamelessly fluffy 00silva Valentine's Day fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Mine?

It was about 9 AM on Valentine’s Day when Bond received the call.

“Hello double oh-seven, this is Eve. You have a delivery waiting for you in the entryway,” chirped Bond’s secretary from the MI6 receptionist’s desk, sounding oddly cheerful for this early in the day.

“Why didn’t they bring it up to my office?” Bond asked grumpily, reluctant to leave behind the fresh glass of scotch he had just set down on his desk

“Well, it’s rather… large,” Eve replied hesitantly. “They weren’t sure if it would fit on the lift. Erm, why don’t you just come down here and see it?”

“All right,” Bond said with a sigh, placing the phone back on its receiver. _Since when did he ever get deliveries?_

Grumbling to himself, the agent grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and stepped out into the hallway, heading for the elevator. Sappy love songs were playing in the lift, and Bond rolled his eyes. _Valentine’s Day. How absolutely putrid._

The doors opened and Bond strode into the lobby, eying Eve suspiciously.

“Well, what is it?”

Eve gestured to the other side of the room. “Over there.”

Bond turned to look, and his jaw dropped as he saw what was waiting for him in the corner of the entryway.

It was a 6-foot tall, heart-shaped floral arrangement made almost entirely of red and pink roses. In the center of the heart, white carnations spelled out “007.”

Bond stepped closer, momentarily stunned into silence. “Is that… glitter dust?” he finally managed, noticing that the entire arrangement was sparkling in a not-so-subtle manner.

“I think it is,” Eve squeaked, hiding her huge smile beneath her hand. “There’s a card, too. I haven’t looked at it yet.”

Bond spied the cream-colored slip of paper between two flowers and gingerly pulled it out, almost afraid that the arrangement would suddenly explode on him.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe,” Eve reassured him as if reading his mind. “I put it through security.”

Bond nodded and slowly opened the card, wondering who the hell could have sent this monstrosity.

 _Dear James_ , the card read in flowery script,

_Happy Valentine’s Day. I’d love it if you came home for lunch._

That was all. There was no signature. Bond slipped the card into his pants pocket, a crease of confusion crossing his brow.

“Well? Who’s it from?” asked Eve, a suggestive grin playing on her lips.

Bond felt a slight blush rise on his cheeks. “No one. It doesn’t say,” he said shortly, turning on his heel and making his way back to the elevator.

“Wait! What do you want me to do with all these bloody roses?” Eve called as Bond stepped inside the lift.

“Give them to Tanner,” the agent replied, smirking. “Should get a rise out of him.”

Bond heard Eve burst out laughing as the doors closed behind him.

\--

11:30 AM.

Bond drummed his fingers restlessly on the desktop, debating whether to return to his flat for lunch or not.

A part of his brain reminded him that it could potentially be dangerous, but as Bond thought about it more, this possibility seemed less likely. Anyone who had sent him roses covered in glitter couldn’t be _too_ hard to fight off, the agent reasoned.

Plus, the thrill of not knowing who had sent them was too hard to resist. Perhaps it was that heiress he had slept with the week before on a trip to Manchester… But then again, how would she have ever known his address?

Bond pursed his lips, stumped. He guessed he would just have to wait and find out.

Bond got up from his desk and crossed over to the window, staring pensively into the streets. The agent scoffed as he noticed that all the shops were full of stupid little stuffed animals and pink-hued candies- how utterly commercial.   

Then, Bond noticed something odd.

It was one of those electronic billboards, mounted on the side of a high-rise across the street. As Bond watched it, the pixels changed from a toothpaste advertisement to a plain, bright red screen. Then, the words came, flashing across the board in neon pink:

_JAMES, BE MY VALENTINE?_

Bond stepped backwards in shock, his eyes widening. _What the…?_

“Okay, that’s it,” the agent said to himself firmly, drawing the blinds across the glass. “No more surprises.”

Bond picked up the phone and hurriedly told Eve that he was taking an early lunch. Determined to solve this mystery once and for all, the agent briskly walked down the stairs to MI6’s back parking lot and strode out onto the pavement.

Bond quickly found his car and gunned the engine to life, tearing out of the lot fast enough to leave tire marks on the asphalt.

Bond’s flat was 15 minutes away. He made it in 10.

\--

Bond stepped inside the lobby of his apartment building and was immediately greeted by his tiny elderly landlady, Mrs. Phipps.

“Oh James, you’re home early! Good thing, because someone dropped this off for you at the front desk!” she said cheerily, squeezing the agent’s arm in a motherly fashion.

“Here you go, darling,” she said as she produced an enormous box of incredibly expensive, deluxe chocolates from behind the counter. Staggering under the weight a little, she lugged the box over to Bond, who took it in his hands with a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Christ,” Bond muttered under his breath as he noticed the tiny note attached to the top:

_I’m sweet on you :)_

A fucking smiley face?!

“Someone’s got a secret admirer!” Mrs. Phipps trilled, clasping a wrinkled hand to her chest in excitement.

“Thank you, Mrs. Phipps, but I really must be going,” Bond told her kindly, smiling at the old woman indulgently.

“Oh, of course, dearie. Get on your way then!” Mrs. Phipps replied and returned to her desk, but not before she pinched Bond’s cheek like he was a toddler again.

With a sigh of relief, Bond escaped to the stairwell and dashed up the three floors to his flat, the ridiculous box of chocolates loudly rattling around in his grasp.

 As the agent came to his door, he paused for a moment to compose himself and straighten his cufflinks. Wouldn’t want to appear _too_ eager.

After a few seconds, Bond slowly reached out and opened the door, suddenly apprehensive. What would he find inside?

The apartment was dark and appeared to be empty as Bond walked inside.

“Hello?” Bond called softly, still clutching the box of chocolates.

As the agent flicked on a small side lamp to dimly illuminate the dark flat, he heard a subtle shifting noise from across the room. Bond ascertained that it had come from a tall-backed armchair that normally faced the fireplace, but was now turned to face the wall.

As the agent watched in suspense, a tall figure slowly rose from the chair and stepped around to face him- a figure that was most definitely not a woman.

Bond stepped back as his brain struggled to place the man’s features in the dim lighting. Oddly light blonde hair, strong jaw, pale jacket and a flamboyant silk shirt- and then Bond knew. _It was Silva._

A small, strangled noise of surprise escaped Bond’s lips as he dropped the box of chocolates, dozens of the candies spilling out and rolling about on the hardwood floor.

Silva chuckled and moved closer to Bond, his features soft with affection. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bond struggled to find his voice, still in shock. “Silva, I--I thought you were dead! The last time I saw you was what, six months ago?”

Silva nodded unhappily. “I know, and I’m so sorry, James.”

Bond pressed on, anger and confusion coloring his words. “You told me that you were only going to be in Malaysia for two weeks. And then you disappear without a word, without a single call? God, you don’t know what I’ve been through these past few months. I…”

Bond trailed off, looking utterly broken. Silva’s face crumpled, and he closed the space between them to pull Bond into a strong, warm embrace.

“I thought I lost you,” Bond whispered, burying his face into Silva’s chest.

Silva rested his chin on the top of Bond’s head, taking the agent’s hand into his own and squeezing it tightly.

“I know. Never again. _Cristo_ , James, I know I should have told you. But I found myself caught between two drug cartels, and things got… messy. I was afraid that if I told you where I was, somebody might hurt you. But it seems _I_ was the one who ended up hurting you… Forgive me,” Silva murmured into Bond’s hair, his voice rough with emotion.

Bond was silent for a while, just resting his head on Silva’s warmth and listening to his heart beat. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and almost hesitant.

“Just don’t let it happen again, Raoul. I can’t take it…This…I love you.” Bond almost whispered the last three words- this was the first time he had ever spoken them to Silva.

Silva felt Bond tense up in his embrace as he awaited a response, suddenly vulnerable. Silva smiled, his eyes crinkling up at the edges, and tilted Bond’s chin up with a gentle finger so that they were standing eye-to-eye.

“I love you too. Never forget that,” Silva said quietly, his dark, inscrutable eyes searching Bond’s own pale blues.

Bond’s face broke into a wide grin and he let out a sigh of relief. “I know you do,” the agent said happily as he held the other man tightly.

With a soft chuckle, Silva reached out a hand to cradle the side of Bond’s face and then pulled the other man in for a deep, emotionally charged kiss. It was slow at first, hesitant from the long separation they had endured. But soon Bond wrapped both of his arms around Silva’s neck and the kiss turned desperate, as if they were trying to reclaim all the moments they had lost when Silva had been away.

If Silva felt a bit of wetness on Bond’s cheeks and the agent’s lips tasted salty, he didn’t mention it.

Finally Silva broke the kiss and gently traced a finger down Bond’s neck, ending at the tiny dip in the center of his collar bone.

“I missed you. So much,” he whispered, leaning in to gently kiss the sensitive skin at Bond’s throat.

“I missed you too,” Bond said softly with an imperceptible shudder, tracing the lines of Silva’s face with a tentative finger.

Silva suddenly smiled broadly, his face lighting up with mischievous glee. “I almost forgot! Did you like my gifts, James? I was hoping you’d know that it was me, yes?”

Bond threw his head back and laughed. “No, I was so confused! But in retrospect, who the hell else would write me a message on an electronic billboard?”

Silva chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “I thought you would like that one. But my favorite was the flower arrangement. 

“Of course _that_ would be your favorite. It was covered in glitter,” Bond said teasingly, pulling Silva closer by his shirt collar and planting a tiny nip on his lower lip.

“Ah, you know me too well,” Silva sighed, cupping Bond’s face in both of his hands and capturing the agent’s full lower lip in a slow kiss. 

Bond met the kiss with equal enthusiasm, this time pressing his body flush against Silva’s, relishing the feeling of their shared heat.

Silva couldn’t help but grind his hips forward into the other man, and when they finally broke apart Bond’s lips were bruised and both men were breathing heavily.

“So. Did you get anything for me, hmm?” Silva asked playfully, his eyes darkening with arousal.

“Yes. Although I don’t know if you deserve it,” Bond quipped back, a smile forming at the edge of his lips.

“I think I do,” Silva responded, reaching forward to deftly unbutton the first few closures on Bond’s white dress shirt. “Show me.”

Bond leaned in to whisper his next words, his breath hot against the skin of Silva’s neck. “Well, since you’re so persuasive, I suppose you can have it….”

The agent trailed a teasing hand down Silva’s ribs and stopped at his waist, hooking a finger under the belt of his dress pants.

“…but you’ll have to come to the bedroom first.”

\--

 

Happy Valentine’s Day!


End file.
